


blessings come and go like seasons

by kinneyb



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23432380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinneyb/pseuds/kinneyb
Summary: Geralt entered the club and glanced around; it was fairly small, but bustling with the midnight crowd. He pushed his way through sweaty, dancing bodies and stopped at the bar.It was the first time he'd left his apartment in days and he was already regretting it.Buthewas the one who'd wanted a fresh start, who had packed up and disappeared at one in the morning without telling his ex. Except a fresh start hadn't been as refreshing as he had hoped—he had struggled to find a job in the city (he never dreamed of being a mechanic, but sure, why not), and even more than that he was lonely.*When Geralt packs up and leaves in the middle of the night, looking for a fresh start and a clean slate after a rocky relationship, he never expects to find it in an inspiring musician named Jaskier and his fiery friend, Yennefer.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 18
Kudos: 358





	blessings come and go like seasons

**Author's Note:**

> twitter: queermight / tumblr: korrmin

Geralt entered the club and glanced around; it was fairly small, but bustling with the midnight crowd. He pushed his way through sweaty, dancing bodies and stopped at the bar.

It was the first time he'd left his apartment in days and he was already regretting it.

But _he_ was the one who'd wanted a fresh start, who had packed up and disappeared at one in the morning without telling his ex. Except a fresh start hadn't been as refreshing as he had hoped—he had struggled to find a job in the city (he never dreamed of being a mechanic, but sure, why not), and even more than that he was lonely.

He couldn't contact Renfri—not after abandoning her like that, and his few friends were in no rush to visit him in the city.

Fair enough; his apartment was small and smelled of mothballs.

Sighing heavily, he leaned on the bar and buried his face in his hands.

"Ohh," a voice, from behind the bar, "Looks like you're having a rough night."

Geralt grunted in reply, not interested in conversation.

"How about," they continued, undeterred, "you do what every good man or woman does when they're alone at a bar?"

Finally, mostly because he was intrigued, he looked up. The man—the bartender, evidently—was unexpectedly young, bright-eyed with light skin and freckles, and the clearest blue eyes he had ever seen. He was—by all accounts—beautiful, and perhaps if Geralt wasn't in such a shitty mood, he would've flirted with him. But he _was_ in a shitty mood.

"And what's that?" he asked gruffly.

The bartender grinned brightly and turned away, pulling some stuff down from off the shelves behind the bar. "Drink, of course," he said, mixing a drink that he then pushed in front of Geralt. "On the house."

Geralt arched an eyebrow, "Are you allowed to do that?"

He shrugged, winking, "I won't tell if you won't," he said, "Go on; try it."

Alcohol didn't sound so bad, actually, and it _was_ free. Geralt picked up the glass and took a sip. It was strong, burned the back of his throat. "You knew exactly just what I needed," he drawled with a hint of amusement.

The bartender beamed, brightening like the fucking sun. Before he could reply, though, a pair of giggling women stumbled over to the bar and waved him down. He smiled apologetically at Geralt—for what, he didn't know. "Sorry," he stepped away. "Duty calls."

Geralt watched as he approached the women and chatted with them.

He was obviously a social person. Geralt wondered how that felt. He didn't mind company, but he also rarely sought it.

Looking away, he downed the rest of his drink, coughed a bit, and left the bar in search of better distractions.

And he found it in a young woman named Yennefer, who tugged him to the back of the club and pushed him up against a wall. She was short, but fiery. Reminded him a lot of Renfri, but only in personality. She had light skin and wild dark curls, and piercing eyes.

"You're new," she breathed against the skin of his neck. Geralt didn't reply, just tilted his head back and sighed as she moved down, mouthing at his shoulder. His shirt was still on, but just barely; she had literally ripped it like a wild animal with her claws, black as her hair.

Thankfully it was just a plain t-shirt, and he had a jacket that had been discarded at their feet, so he wasn't too worried about it.

She said something else, but Geralt didn't hear it as he looked up, eyelashes fluttering, and noticed the bartender watching them from behind the bar.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Finally the bartender looked away, cheeks pink. Geralt licked his lips at the sight, and Yennefer pulled back, frowning at him. "What are you looking at?"

Before he could answer, her eyes flickered to the bar and back again.

"Fucking fuck," she said eloquently, stepping back.

Geralt was confused, mostly. He reached for her, and she smacked his hands away. "What?"

She waved him off. "Just go."

Geralt blinked, "I don't—"

Yennefer pointed a finger in his face, "Grow a pair," she paused. "What was your name again?"

"Geralt," he said, not knowing what else to say.

She smiled devilishly, "Grow a pair, _Geralt_ , and just fuck him if you want to fuck him." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and walked away, hips swaying and curls bouncing.

She was beautiful, and he had fucked it up. Like he did most things.

Grabbing his jacket off the floor, he glanced at the bar but the bartender was nowhere to be seen. Taking that as a sign, he pushed through the sweaty bodies—again—and left the club.

*

Days later, he returned to the club. He had settled down better, and was in the mood for a night of bad decisions. He pointedly avoided the bar and found Yennefer in the crowd, dressed in a slinky top with dark jeans.

"Can we try again?" he asked.

She took one look at him and smiled darkly, "Depends. Do you still want to fuck him?"

Geralt nearly threw his hands in the air. What was with her _obsession_ with the bartender? "Is he your ex or something?" he asked, and she laughed loudly, patting his arm.

"Absolutely not."

Geralt nodded slowly. "So?"

Yennefer arched an eyebrow and patted his chest, "I know how this works," she said. "There have been many, _many_ men in my bed, Gerald—"

He sighed, "Geralt."

"Right, whatever. Most of them are wonderful, but each time I have slept with one of _Jaskier's_ boys, I end up regretting it. Just fuck him, and if you still want me," Yennefer spread her arms, "I'll be here."

Geralt stared at her, nearly laughing. "I don't even _know_ him."

"Ah," she said, "but you _want_ to."

Again, she turned and walked away without waiting for a reply. Scoffing, he walked to the bar and slid into one of the empty stools. The bartender—Jaskier—was serving a man at the other end of the bar, a handsome fellow with light hair and dark eyes.

Jaskier leaned on the bar and smiled at him, batting his eyelashes.

Geralt frowned and looked away. If he _wanted_ Jaskier, he would've went after him that night and—most likely—gotten him. He was obviously interested in men by the way he was flirting with the man down there, and so was Geralt (he didn't even have a preference, really).

But he _hadn't_ ; he had obviously went after her.

"Hey, you're back."

Geralt glanced up at Jaskier and smiled, just the barest hint of teeth, "I am."

He leaned on the bar, just like he had with the other man. "Yennefer tells me everything, you know," he said, and admittedly Geralt hadn't been expecting that. "Listen, she's my oldest, dearest friend and I think she's a fucking _gem_ , but you might want to be careful around her. She can be..."

"Stubborn?" he suggested, thinking of their brief interactions.

Jaskier smiled, "Something like that."

Geralt snorted, "Thanks for the warning. Now can you do your job?"

"Right," he said, gathering ingredients. He mixed him the same drink as the other night, and Geralt took a gulp, needing it. "She also mentioned—I mean, I noticed—" he stammered, "You've never been here before, right?"

Geralt wiped his mouth with his hand, "I moved to the city a couple weeks ago."

"Oh." Jaskier brightened a bit, and just like that he was back in his element, "Was there a particular reason?" Geralt frowned, and Jaskier quickly said, "Not that you have to tell me, obviously," he said, pulling a towel out of his apron and wiping down the bar. The bar was perfectly clean. He scrubbed harder.

Geralt smiled, unable to help himself, "I just needed a fresh start," he said, honestly.

"I understand," he said, finally stopping. He dried his hands and tucked the towel away. "I moved here for the same reason, kind of," he explained. "But it was years ago."

Geralt nodded. He debated if he should ask about it or not when suddenly the decision was stolen from him by Yennefer's arrival. She slapped a hand on the bar. "Drinks," she said simply.

Jaskier prepared two drinks, colorful and fruity, and handed him to her. She kissed him on the cheek before she finally noticed Geralt, " _Ugh_ ," she said, rolling her eyes, before she turned and walked away.

"I know what you're thinking," Jaskier said with a hint of amusement. "Odd friends."

Geralt shrugged, clearing his throat, "I am the least judgmental person you will ever meet. I mean, my closest friend is a cat."

Jaskier laughed, leaning on the bar again. "Seriously?" he asked, eyes sparkling.

Smiling a bit, he fished his phone out of his pocket and showed the screen to Jaskier. It was Roach in her element, stretched out at the end of his bed. Jaskier cooed. "Does she—he?—have a name?"

"Roach," he answered, "and she's a girl."

Jaskier stared at him, silent, for a few long seconds. "You are a weird person."

Geralt felt oddly pleased as he pocketed his phone again. "I try."

Grinning, sudden and bright, Jaskier tapped the bar. "We never properly introduced ourselves," he said. "I know Yennefer kind of spoiled that, but whatever." Jaskier extended a hand. "I'm Julian, but my friends—namely the devil herself—call me Jaskier, so."

He stared at his hand for a beat before accepting it, shaking lightly. His fingers were surprisingly calloused, and surely not from bartending. "Geralt," he said. "I don't have many friends, so."

"Ohh," Jaskier said, squeezing his hand. "That means you need a nickname."

Geralt snorted, "God, no."

"Gerbear," he said instantly, way too cheerily.

"Okay," Geralt pulled his hand back. His cheeks ached, and he realized he was grinning. He hadn't grinned in so long; not for months, at least. "You are seriously demented."

*

Geralt returned to the club a few weeks later. It'd been so long he wondered if Jaskier would even entertain him with his company, especially since the newness had worn off. But as soon as he was at the bar, Jaskier popped up like he had a radar on him. "You're back," he said, grinning cheekily. "Just can't stay away, hmm?"

He opened his mouth and caught sight of Yennefer watching them from a few feet away, sandwiched between a man and a woman. He cleared his throat. "What can I say?" he drawled, "You're the best bartender I've ever had."

It wasn't much of a lie; Geralt hadn't clubbed a lot, before. He never saw the point when he had a partner. Now he was free and could do what he wanted, even if that was just sit at the bar and drink all night.

"Stop it," Jaskier said, waving a hand at him. "Flattery will get you _everything_."

Geralt smirked, leaning on the bar, "I don't think that's how—"

"Julian," Yennefer said, sliding up on high heels. She batted her eyelashes, long and dark. "Aren't you performing soon?"

He sat up a little straighter. "Performing?" he asked, not understanding.

Jaskier turned away sharply, "Yen," he said through clenched teeth, "Don't you have a man - or woman, or both - to fuck?"

"Oh, I do," she assured him, leaning over the bar and patting his back, "But I have to support my oldest, dearest friend first," she said, grinning like a shark. "Is there a problem?"

Jaskier turned to look at her. "No," he said at the same time as Geralt said, "What?"

Yennefer's eyes flickered to the other man. Jaskier grabbed for her arm, cheeks flushed. But she just danced out from under his hand. "He's performing, tonight," she said brightly. "You know, guitar and mic. The whole bit." She brushed a hand down Geralt's back, but he barely even seemed to notice; he was too busy staring at Jaskier. "He's _amazing_."

"Like... singing?" he asked, just to be sure.

He shouldn't have been shocked, not really; Jaskier looked the part, handsome in a boy band kind of way. But also his fingers—they'd been rough; he guessed from years of playing.

Jaskier was still flushed, arms folded over his chest. "Yes, Geralt," he said. "I'm singing."

"Huh," he said. "When?"

Yennefer twirled away, waving her fingers, back to the man and woman waiting for her. Jaskier glared at her retreating back. "You don't have to," he said finally, turning back to him. "I mean, stay and watch or whatever. I'm not very good." Jaskier shrugged. "Why do you think I'm bartending?"

"Just because you're not some big shot doesn't mean you're not good," he retorted.

Jaskier smiled slightly, "Fair point," he conceded, turning away and collecting the ingredients for what had evidently become Geralt's regular. He wasn't complaining; it was tasty, and strong.

"I'll stay and watch," he said after a moment, "but only because I want to."

Jaskier finished his drink and placed the glass in front of him. "Okay," he said. Geralt noticed his hand was shaking, just barely. He wondered if he always got so nervous before performing. Possibly; Geralt couldn't imagine having so many eyes on him. "Just… have low expectations, yeah?"

"I told you," he said before he took a sip, "I'm the least judgmental person ever."

Jaskier smiled again, a little bigger. "Good." He glanced at the clock behind the bar. "Because I'm on in, like, four minutes."

Winking, he untied his apron just as another bartender—a young woman with choppy hair—stepped up.

"Break a leg," he said as Jaskier disappeared around the back of the bar.

Geralt ordered a beer from the woman and swiveled in his seat, leaning against the bar. Minutes later, Jaskier ascended the steps to the stage near the back of the club. He had changed; he was adorned in a studded red jacket over his black t-shirt and his eyes were lined with black, smoky around the edges. Geralt took a long sip of his beer, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Hello, darlings," he purred into the mic. "I doubt you came back for my beautiful singing," he continued dramatically, "but if you did, thank you." He winked, and there were cheers.

Geralt smiled behind the rim of his glass.

"Tonight we have a special guest," he continued, grinning devilishly.

Geralt immediately slumped in his seat. No fucking way.

"Everyone, please give a round of applause for Geralt," he said, gesturing to the bar.

They cheered again, even louder, and Geralt groaned, pointedly staring at his feet. They didn't even know him; they were just feeding off the energy of the room. Jaskier laughed wildly.

"This one's for you, Geralt," he said, winking again.

Geralt looked back up and smiled, unable to help himself. Jaskier cleared his throat and started to play his guitar; it was red with black streaks. Geralt didn't know very much about music, but even he could tell that Jaskier was talented. He captivated the audience.

Then his lips parted, and Geralt couldn't look away for even a second as Jaskier sang, low and gravely,

_A storm breaking on the horizon_

_Of longing and heartache and lust_

_She's always bad news_

_It's always lose, lose_

_So tell me love, tell me love_

_How is that just?_

Jaskier didn't take his eyes off Geralt as he continued, eyelashes fluttering,

_I'm weak my love, and I am wanting_

_If this is the path I must trudge_

_I welcome my sentence_

_Give to you my penance_

_Garrotter, jury and judge_

He smiled, went to take another sip of beer before realizing the glass was empty. He placed it on the bar without taking his eyes off Jaskier. Jaskier smiled at him, lips curling prettily, as he finished,

_But the story is this_

_She'll destroy with her sweet kiss_

_The story is this_

_She'll destroy with her sweet kiss_

When he finished, there were cheers again. Jaskier bowed dramatically, curling in half. Geralt even noticed Yennefer clapping with the sweetest, realest smile he had seen on her face since meeting her. He joined in.

*

"You were amazing," he said as soon as Jaskier popped up behind the bar again.

Jaskier waved him off, "You don't have to—"

"I'm not," he interrupted. Geralt was many things, but he was not a liar. Renfri had even faulted him for it, once (" _learn when to lie, Geralt!"_ ), but it just wasn't in his blood. "You're incredible." To prove his honesty, he smiled almost sheepishly. "I kind of expected you to suck."

Jaskier laughed loudly, leaning on the bar. " _Honest_ ," he said, waggling his eyebrows. "I like that in a man."

Geralt noticed, now, that while Jaskier had changed out of his other clothes he was still wearing the makeup. His eyes, bright and blue, contrasted starkly against the darkness around them.

"Yeah?" he asked before he even knew he had opened his mouth. "What else?"

Jaskier's eyes flickered down to his mouth. "Hmm," he said. "Well, for starters—"

"Geralt," Yennefer said, too brightly, as she grabbed his arm. "Dance with me."

He glanced at Jaskier, but he just smiled, almost sadly. Or perhaps he was just seeing things. "Go." Jaskier grabbed his apron from under the bar. "I have work to do, anyway."

Yennefer pressed up against his arm. He should've enjoyed it, but he didn't. "You wanted me," she whispered against his neck, almost as if he needed to be reminded, "Or have you changed your mind?"

Geralt frowned. What was wrong with him? Yennefer was pretty, and he _had_ wanted her, at one point.

Jaskier winked at them. "Break a leg."

Shaking his head, he wrapped an arm around her waist and followed her through the crowd of squirming bodies. Finally, she found a spot she was satisfied with and they stopped. Yennefer placed her hands on his shoulders. "You're not very discreet," she commented almost casually, swaying her hips.

"What do you mean?" he asked, barely loud enough to be heard over the speakers.

Yennefer squeezed his shoulders, "You don't want _me_."

"I didn't say that," he replied quickly. "And I'm here, aren't I?"

Yennefer brushed her hands down his arms. "I don't know why," she said, "you're convincing yourself you want me, and not him, but stop it." She leaned up, lips almost brushing his cheek. "You're not alone," she whispered in his ear, "I have it on good authority that he wants you too."

His fingers twitched against her waist. "But—"

"But nothing," she pulled back. "Did you really think I would settle for second best?"

Geralt smiled, just barely. "You are an odd woman, Yennefer."

She shrugged primly. "Honestly I've been called worse," she said with a smirk. "Go."

"But he's working," he said even as he took a step back, angling toward the bar.

Yennefer patted his chest, "I'll take care of it, big boy."

Geralt hesitated for a moment. He almost felt guilty. Yennefer really was beautiful, and she was kind (in her own, very specific way) but that was exactly why she deserved a person who wanted _her_. "Thank you," he said, though he wasn't sure what he was thanking her.

"Go," she repeated, rolling her eyes. "Before I vomit all over the front of your very ugly shirt."

Geralt barked out a laugh as he turned and pushed back through the bodies to the bar. Jaskier was serving a pair of giggling women. He waited, impatiently, until he was finished to approach the bar.

"Oh," Jaskier said, eyes brightening. "I thought—"

Geralt took a deep breath. "Roach," he said. "Do you want to meet her?"

Jaskier stared him for a long, silent moment before he grinned, bright as the sun. "I mean, yeah," he said through a bit of laughter, glancing around, "but I'm working, and I can't just—“

"Yennefer said she'd take care of it," he interrupted. "I don't know what _that_ means, but—"

"Good enough for me," he said, already pulling off his apron.

*

Geralt remembered too late that his apartment was laughably small and still smelled kind of like mothballs. The air fresheners had _not_ been working so far.

"Sorry," he said as soon as they stepped through the door. "It's small, and—“

Jaskier gasped loudly and Geralt startled, turning just in time to see him rush over to the couch. "Oh my God," he said as he crouched down in front of Roach. "I am in love. I love her."

Geralt closed the door, "Be careful," he said. "She's not fond of strangers."

"I doubt that," he said brightly and confidently reached out for her. Geralt cringed, preparing for the inevitable yelp of pain when she swatted at him, but she didn't. Roach simply rolled over as Jaskier smoothed her hand down her fur, black and thick. He watched, speechless.

"She likes you," he said as he sat on the couch, jostling Roach. "That's unusual."

Jaskier grinned up at him, eyes still dark and smoky. Geralt's mouth was suddenly dry again. He needed to say _something—_ set the mood—but then Jaskier was standing. "Do you mind if I wash this off?" he asked, gesturing at his face.

Geralt nodded dumbly, "The, uh, the bathroom is down the hall, first room on the left."

Smiling brightly, he disappeared down the hallway and Roach crawled into his lap, meowing loudly. Geralt sighed heavily, placing a hand on her back. "Shut up. I know."

When Jaskier returned, he looked like himself again but no less breathtaking.

"You have, like, the cheapest toilet paper ever," he said as he plopped on the couch.

Geralt barked out a laugh that surprised even himself, not expecting that. "Sorry," he said, eyes crinkling as he shifted on the couch, facing him. "Not used to people coming over."

Jaskier stared at him, eyes flickering to his mouth. They were both silent.

"You _are_ single, right?" he asked finally, an amused quirk to his lips. "Because I will not be a homewrecker."

Geralt smiled slightly. He thought of Renfri and for once the thought of her—the memories they had shared together—didn't hurt. "I wasn't," he said, "not for a long time but then we ended things."

Jaskier nodded, pulling his feet up on the couch after kicking off his shoes. "Does that have something to do with why you moved?" he asked softly.

"We fought a lot, even after breaking up," he said, staring down at the cat curled up in his lap. His dearest and oldest friend was a cat, but he wasn't even ashamed. Roach was loyal and sweet and would never abandon him. "One day I just got so fed up with it. All of it. I packed my things and left without telling anyone. It wasn't a big deal; I didn't have many friends, anyway."

Jaskier scooted closer, couch squeaking, and placed a hand on his arm. "You do now," he said, "if you want one."

Geralt looked up. Jaskier was so close he could see the speckles of brown in his eyes. "I want _you_ , Jaskier," he said, speaking around the lump in his throat. He hadn't done this in so long. He hated to admit it, but he was terrified. What if Yennefer was wrong? What if Jaskier didn't want him?

But then he smiled, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth. "Bedroom?"

Geralt's heart jumped. "Uh. Fuck." He gently moved Roach off his lap. "I mean, yeah. Just—" He stood up, nearly stepping on her. " _Fuck_. Sorry. Follow me."

Jaskier stood up, grinning cheekily, and grabbed his hand. "Lead the way."

Roach tried to follow them but Geralt stopped her at the door. He crouched down, pointing a finger in her face. She lazily sniffed it. "You are _not_ ruining this for me," he said, " _Go_."

Meowing loudly, she turned and wandered off.

Standing up, he turned and his breath caught in his throat at Jaskier, already shirtless. Jaskier smiled, a mix of shy and coy. "Too brazen?"

"Not at all," he replied, closing the door with his foot and walking over.

*

Geralt opened his eyes. It was odd, waking up with someone else; he'd gotten used to sleeping alone again. But it was a _good_ kind of odd. Jaskier's head was on his shoulder and he was even drooling a bit. Geralt smiled, eyelashes fluttering, and that's when he heard it:

Roach's insistent meowing from the hallway.

He sighed and brushed a hand down Jaskier's back, "Hey."

Jaskier turned and buried his face in his armpit. Geralt snorted, "You'll regret that."

"Five more minutes," he muttered, undeterred.

Geralt patted his ass, "Roach is hungry. Roach always get what she wants."

"Hm," Jaskier leaned back, blinking blearily. "If I remember correctly," he said, rubbing at his eyes and yawning, "you had _no_ problem telling her off last night."

Geralt almost laughed, "You heard that?"

"Oh, I heard that," he assured him, rubbing a hand down the middle of his chest. "But you know what, I think she's onto something." Jaskier sat up and stretched, arms high in the air. Geralt's eyes racked over his body; he was surprisingly tough, but still lean, and he had unexpected freckles on his stomach and his back. Jaskier turned to look at him, eyes bright. "Enjoying the view?"

Geralt grunted, "What was that about Roach?"

Jaskier grinned, biting the inside of his cheek. "Food sounds good."

A few minutes later, after feeding Roach, they were sitting together on the couch with plates of eggs, fancied up with veggies and spices Geralt had never even opened before that morning. Geralt wasn't a big cook - he usually ordered out - but Jaskier had spun around his kitchen like a seasoned chef.

"Is there anything you _can't_ do?" he asked around a mouthful of eggs.

Jaskier smiled for a moment, almost sad, poking at his eggs with a fork. "Actually make something of myself?" he offered. Geralt frowned, swallowing. "Sorry, that was _far_ too depressing for the first date," he quickly added, shoveling a forkful of eggs in his mouth, “I’m usually better than that. Really.”

"You want to do this again?" he asked, unable to help himself.

Jaskier smiled again, brighter. "If you want to."

Geralt swallowed his fear, telling him he shouldn't try again, "I do."

For a moment, they continued eating, both silent. Roach meowed at their feet once she was finished eating, obviously dissatisfied with her small portion. Geralt gently pushed her away with his foot.

"What did you mean?" he asked finally. He didn't specify what; they both knew.

Jaskier shrugged, "We're not so different, Geralt," he said. "I moved to the city after I had a fight with my parents. I—I wanted to be a musician but they didn't believe in me. Told me I was being silly and needed to get a real job. I was only eighteen then and so _angry_. I packed up and left. Tried for a few months as a musician, but nothing took off. Eventually I discovered the club and Yen was already a regular there; the owner adored her. She's the reason I even got the job.

Geralt wanted to comfort him, but he didn't know how. He gently knocked their feet together. Jaskier smiled briefly.

"In the end I did exactly what they told me to do: I got a real job, eventually saved up enough for a shitty apartment."

Geralt reached for his water, "But you still play," he said. "That's something, right?"

Jaskier sighed softly, "I play for _free_ , Geralt. The owner just lets me do it because why not? No harm in letting the silly little bartender live out his dream on stage, even if it's in front of a crowd of a hundred or so twenty-somethings so drunk they can hardly walk."

Frowning, he leaned over, pressing their shoulders together. Jaskier was warm.

"You're amazing though," he said. Jaskier scoffed, smiling slightly. "I mean it. You can do it. Make something of yourself. You just have to keep trying."

Jaskier chewed on the end of his fork. He was lucky he was cute. "I want to do it," he said. "Make something of myself. Show my parents I could do it."

"What's stopping you?" he asked.

Jaskier smiled again, almost sadly, "I barely have any free time, Geralt. I have to work at the bar—and I work at a coffee shop during the day; no, stop looking at me like that, I can't get you free coffee—constantly and even _then_ I barely have enough to pay rent and stuff. I can't focus on my music, not right now."

Geralt stared at his plate, almost empty. He shouldn't. They barely knew each other. "I have a suggestion," he said, "but it might sound crazy."

" _Ohh_ ," Jaskier nudged him. "I'm listening."

Geralt swallowed around the lump in his throat as he looked up, "Move in with me." Jaskier's mouth fell open, and he continued quickly, "Not like... you know. We could be roommates if that's what you want. That have sex occasionally, if you want. But only if you want. I just—I wouldn't mind, you know, having breakfast some mornings and you wouldn't have to work so much."

Jaskier nearly dropped his plate in his haste to grab Geralt's hands. "Seriously?"

He nodded slowly. "I know we only met a few weeks ago, but why the fuck not?"

It'd been a while since he did something risky, stepped off that ledge in hopes of something beautiful being at the bottom. He had tried with Renfri and failed, but perhaps he was being given a second chance. Jaskier stared at him, eyes bright. "You're not a serial killer, right?" he asked, far too cheerily.

Geralt barked out a laugh, "No," he confirmed. "I am not."

"Good enough for me," he replied, leaning forward and smacking him on the lips.

Pulling back, he smiled almost slyly. Geralt's heart fluttered behind his ribs. "And as for the sex part," Jaskier continued, wagging his eyebrows, "I would _very_ much like to continue that."

Geralt smiled back. He was relieved; he didn't think too hard about why. "Okay."

*

Geralt didn't really think about Yennefer's reaction—or Yennefer much at all, admittedly. But she was there at the club when they returned the next night.

"So?" she asked as Jaskier walked behind the bar and grabbed his apron.

He didn't look at her as he started wiping down the bar, "What?"

Geralt sat down, watching as Yennefer leaned on the part of the bar he had just cleaned, "Did you two finally fuck?" she asked, bright and loud.

Jaskier rolled his eyes and waved her off the bar, cleaning it again.

"We did," Geralt said before he could think better of it. But Jaskier just smiled at him.

Yennefer beamed like the fucking sun—or, more fitting, the moon on a dark night. "I _knew_ it," she said. "Is it our of your system or—?" she asked, peering at Jaskier. "Is this going to be a _thing_?"

He finally looked at her. "I'm moving in with him, Yen."

They were all silent for a few long seconds. "What the fuck?" she said finally. "You have been brainwashed by dick, Julian." She leaned back on the bar, arms folded together. "You can't seriously be considering this."

"I'm _not_ ," he replied instantly. "I already decided."

Yennefer turned her head, glaring at Geralt with pursed lips. "He could be a serial killer."

"If I remember correctly," Jaskier said sharply, "you were _perfectly_ willing to fuck him yourself."

Yennefer turned back, "There is a difference, Jaskier." Geralt didn't know what to say. He just watched as they stared each other down and shared a silent conversation. "Okay," she said finally. "Fine. If that's what you want, but when he cuts your dick off in your sleep, just know I warned ya."

"He would never do that," he said, winking at him. "Right?"

Geralt loosened up a bit. "No, I wouldn't," he assured him.

Yennefer rolled her eyes. "I won't stop you," she said, pointing a finger at Jaskier, "but I do want to talk. With words." Reaching out, he accepted her hand and she led him out from behind the bar and around a corner. Geralt wished he could hear what they were saying but he also had no interest in betraying Jaskier's trust before he had ever finished moving in.

When they returned, Yennefer stomped over and stopped in front of him.

" _You—_ " she said, poking him in the chest "—better be good to him or _you'll_ be the one losing his dick," she poked him again, harder, "and I will make sure it's as _slow_ and painful as possible, got it?"

Geralt smiled, unable to help himself. Jaskier covered his mouth, stifling a laugh.

"I understand," he said. "I'm doing this to help him."

Yennefer straightened up, hands on her hips. "So he says, but I'm still skeptical."

Jaskier sighed, though he smiled fondly. Geralt understood their relationship better now, after learning about it. They loved each other in their own special way. "Yen, you're skeptical of _everything_."

"Because I'm smart," she reminded him.

Geralt shrugged, "She has a point."

Yennefer turned to him. "Hmm," she said. "Perhaps you have potential."

*

A few weeks later, and Jaskier was moved in. Geralt had cleaned half the closet for him. It was weird; sharing a room again, but he had kind of missed it. Jaskier was good company. He always cooked breakfast for both of them, helped clean the rest of the apartment, played with Roach when she was hyper and running around knocking things off tables.

Geralt realized something he had already known: he was falling for Jaskier.

The sex almost every night helped, of course; Jaskier was a _very_ generous lover.

But, more than that, he enjoyed the cuddling afterwards. He was so domestic it was kind of disgusting; he hadn't even been so whipped for Renfri, but Jaskier somehow had that power over him.

And, for once, he wasn't scared of that. Maybe he had matured without realizing it.

But there was still a problem.

"Jaskier," he said, leaning in the doorway. He was on the bed, scribbling in a notebook. "Can we, uh, talk?"

He looked up and paused. He had gotten scarily good at reading Geralt in just a few weeks. "Is everything okay?" he asked, closing his notebook. "Please tell me you are not already kicking me out. I would never hear the end of it from Yennefer," he added jokingly, though he smiled nervously. Like he honestly thought that was a possibility.

Geralt smiled slightly as he walked over and sat down. "Nothing like that."

"Oh, okay." Jaskier cleared his throat. "Good."

Geralt looked up and swallowed around the lump in his throat. He would be honest, again. Even if it had ended in disaster last time. He couldn't stop trying out of fear of never succeeding. He _wanted_ Jaskier in any and every way he could have him. "I know what I said, and I thought I'd be fine with it, but I'm not."

Jaskier stared at him. "What?"

"I don't want to _just_ be roommates who sometimes have sex, Julian," he said. "I want _more_ than that. I want—I want everything you'll give me, the good and the bad." He reached out and placed a hand on Jaskier's leg. "I want _you_. Just you, and no one else."

Jaskier placed a hand on top of Geralt's, "You're an idiot," he said fondly.

"Uh." Geralt blinked. He hadn't been expecting that. "What?"

Jaskier smiled, "We're _already_ partners, Geralt," he said. "Did you think we weren't? I mean, we sleep together every night, eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner together when we’re not working. I never saw you as just a friend with benefits." He scooted a bit closer. "Did _you?_ "

"I—I just didn't know," he said. "I'm not good with this kind of stuff."

Jaskier snaked his arms around Geralt's neck, combing his fingers through his hair, down after a long day. "Well,“ he said, slowly, ”luckily you have _me_ to show you way," he said, soft and teasing, leaning in. "Okay," he said, whispering. " _Now_ would be a good time to kiss me.“

Geralt smiled and did just that.

*

"Geralt, _Geralt_ ," Jaskier stumbled through the door long after midnight and dropped in Geralt's lap. Geralt quickly switched off the television.

Jaskier was beaming, glowing. It had been months since they'd moved in together, and he had never seen him so giddy, not even during sex. Geralt slipped his arms around his waist as he settled in his lap, straddling him on the couch. "What is it?" he asked. "You look happy."

"My first paid gig," he said, fast. "I—I was approached tonight, after my performance, and this guy said he'd love to have me at his club. It's—it's _huge_ , Geralt. The amount, I mean. Have you heard of Cintra?" When Geralt shook his head, he rolled his eyes and continued, "It's one of the biggest clubs in the city."

Geralt's thumb stroked up, under Jaskier's shirt and over his skin. "That's—that's _amazing_ ," he said, meaning it. He knew Jaskier had been waiting for something like this. He wanted to support him. "When?"

"Next Friday," he said brightly. "Geralt, I'm _doing_ it."

Geralt leaned up and kissed him, "I'll be there," he said between kisses, "cheering you on." It was sappy, but true: there was nothing else he'd rather do.

Jaskier giggled and pulled back. "We should celebrate." He shifted in Geralt's lap, always a brat. "You know, in the _bedroom_."

"Mmm," he said, brushing their noses together. "You want that?"

Then, without missing a beat, he stood up, hands cupped under Jaskier's ass. He laughed, curling his legs around Geralt's waist as he carried him to the bedroom. Roach danced under his feet, playing a dangerous game. Once they were through the door, he closed it and slammed Jaskier up against it, kissing him thoroughly.

"I couldn't have—" he gasped, "done _any_ of this without you."

Geralt sucked his bottom lip between his teeth, "You could have," he said, "just might have taken a little longer."

Jaskier clawed at the back of his shirt, "You are a _good_ man, Geralt," he muttered against his neck. "So, so good. I'm so _lucky_ to have you." Jaskier had a tendency of talking in the bedroom, mostly praises. Geralt didn't have much experience with that, before, but he found that he enjoyed it a lot. "I wouldn't know what to do without you, now," he said after sucking on his neck, leaving a blossoming mark. "Never leave me, okay?"

He thought of Renfri briefly, but he knew it would be different with Jaskier.

He was weak for him in a way he had never been for Renfri, for anyone. He wanted him to be happy, wanted to wrap him in a blanket and keep him safe from the cruel world. From his parents who had ever made him feel less than fucking _capable_ of _anything_ and _everything_.

"I'll always be here," he panted against the skin of his shoulder. "Always."

Jaskier nosed at his cheek. "I _love_ you, Geralt," he said, barely a whisper. " _So_ much."

Geralt stiffened. They hadn't said that, not yet. He pulled back slowly, heart thumping loudly in his chest, blood rushing in his ears.

"I'm not taking it back," Jaskier said quickly. "You don't have to say it," he continued, stroking his cheek with his thumb, "but _I_ said it, and _I_ mean it, and I'm not taking it back. Okay?"

Geralt opened his mouth, closed it. He leaned in, pressing their foreheads together.

"I feel the same way," he said. "And I'm scared, Julian."

Jaskier brushed his hands down his shoulders, a silent comfort. "I know, darling."

He also did that, often: called him things like _darling_ and _sweetheart_ and _dear_. Renfri never did that. Geralt was almost embarrassed by how much he liked it. He kissed the corner of his mouth. "I don't know what I'd do if we—if you—"

" _Shh_ ," he shushed him softly. "Don't think about it. Think about right now." Jaskier grabbed his hand and pressed it over his crotch. Geralt groaned like it'd been punched out of him. "Be in the moment, okay?" Geralt pulled back, eyelashes fluttering. "Right now, I want you more than I've _ever_ wanted anyone in my life. Can you do that for me? Make me feel good?"

Geralt almost laughed. " _Yes_ ," he breathed. "Always."

Jaskier smiled, biting his bottom lip. "Go ahead, then."

He didn't need to be told twice. He struggled with lots of things—feelings, words—but _this_ he knew how to do. Geralt kissed him, sloppy and wet, as he slipped his hand under the waistband of Jaskier's jeans and touched him.

*

Geralt glanced over at Yennefer; she looked uncharacteristically nervous, out of her element. Smiling softly, he nudged her. She stiffened for a brief moment before relaxing again.

" _What?_ " she asked sharply.

Geralt was used to her prickly personality by now. "He's going to do _great_."

Yennefer looked affronted, "Don't say that as if I don't know that." She turned back toward the stage, much larger than the one Jaskier was used to performing on. Cintra seemed to be known for their performers. "He's going to blow these fuckers out of the fucking _water_."

"Agreed," he said.

After that the lights were lowered and a spotlight—literally—was pointed toward the stage. The music from the speakers died down as Jaskier stepped out onto the stage between two dark curtains.

He found Geralt in the crowd immediately and smiled, beaming like the sun.

Geralt smiled back as he walked up to the mic and cleared his throat. "I thought about writing a new song for tonight," he said.

He noticed his hands shaking, like before. He knew now it was nervous habit.

"Because this is—an _amazing_ opportunity," he said with a bit of a laugh. "I was in a dark place for a long time, and then I met two really amazing people. My best friend, and now my— _partner_ ," he finished finally. "Because _boyfriend_ just sounds so juvenile, you know?"

Laughter. Geralt noticed Yennefer was stiff again and took her hand. She startled, glaring at him, before squeezing his hand so hard he almost yelped in pain. Who knew she was so strong?

"All that to say, I want to perform the song that I think helped in changing my life." Jaskier gripped his guitar, positioning his hands. "I hope you enjoy it."

_A storm breaking on the horizon_

_Of longing and heartache and lust_

_She's always bad news_

_It's always lose, lose_

_So tell me love, tell me love_

_How is that just?_

Geralt watched as people slowly paired off, leaning into each other and swaying with the music. He turned and smiled at Yennefer. "What do you say?" he asked. "One last dance?"

She rolled her eyes but placed her hands on his shoulders, swaying back and forth.

Geralt pointedly kept his hands above her waist as Jaskier continued, soft and husky,

_I'm weak my love, and I am wanting_

_If this is the path I must trudge_

_I welcome my sentence_

_Give to you my penance_

_Garrotter, jury and judge_

He loved him. Geralt blinked, the thought coming out of nowhere. He stumbled a bit before righting himself. Yennefer looked at him oddly. It wasn't news to him; he knew he loved Jaskier but this was something else. He was _in love_ with him, fully and truly. He wanted to be with him, through the good and the bad. He never wanted to run from him, not ever.

"I love him," he said, suddenly. "I _love him_ , Yennefer."

Yennefer stared at him for a long, silent moment before she said, "I know."

_But the story is this_

_She'll destroy with her sweet kiss_

_The story is this_

_She'll destroy with her sweet kiss_

Pulling apart, they both turned and clapped as soon as Jaskier had finished, smiling brightly, eyes crinkling. They weren't the only ones clapping; the crowd loved him. Geralt knew they would. How could they not?

Jaskier looked almost shy as he bowed, "Thank you, thank you."

*

"You've been supporting me so much," Jaskier said; they were sitting at the bar while Yennefer was off dancing with a woman. "I—I feel like I'm not doing enough for _you_ ," he continued, smiling sheepishly.

Geralt wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "You are," he said, "by being here."

Jaskier turned and nosed at his jaw, sighing softly, "You are so cheesy."

"Hmm," he hummed, "Don't tell anyone."

Jaskier pulled back, bright-eyed. Geralt wanted to kiss him and never stop, but he needed to say this first.

"I love you," he said. Jaskier blinked once, eyes widening. He looked owlish and adorable. Geralt leaned in, brushing their noses together. "I love waking up in the morning to you drooling on my arm. I love when you make us breakfast because you know I'd burn the kitchen down. Or when I walk into the living room and you're napping on the couch with Roach."

Jaskier let out a soft laugh. "Geralt, I—"

"I want to support you for the rest of our lives," he continued. "If _you_ want that."

This was it: the moment that mattered.

Jaskier slipped his arms around Geralt's neck and tugged him off his stool to stand between his legs. Geralt smiled down at him.

"I never thought I could have this," he said. "After what happened with—well, you know." Geralt cleared his throat, cupping the side of his face and thumbing his jaw. "But I think we can have this. Together."

Jaskier turned and kissed the palm of his hand, eyelashes fluttering. "Jesus," he said, almost a sob/laugh. "I want that." He turned back. "I really, really want that.“

Smiling, Geralt leaned down to kiss him—

"Boys," Yennefer said, cutting in. They pulled apart, turning toward her. She had walked over with the woman from earlier, her dance partner. She had wild curly hair and freckles. She was pretty in a soft way, not as sharp as Yennefer. "Meet Triss." She gestured at the woman. "She works for a record label."

Jaskier rolled her eyes, "And you actually believe her?" he asked, not unkindly.

Yennefer glared at him, "She showed me her ID and I cross-referenced it on Google, dumbass. She's listed on their official website."

"Oh," he said and suddenly sat up straighter. " _Oh_."

Geralt stepped out from between his legs, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Yennefer nodded, and Triss stepped forward, hands clasped together in front of her. "You were— _amazing_ ," she said, soft and breathy. "I can't promise anything, of course, but I would love to send a demo to my boss and see what he thinks." She smiled sweetly. "I think you are _exactly_ what he's been looking for."

Jaskier reached up, fast, and grabbed Geralt's arm, squeezing. "Oh my God."

He leaned down. "Might want to say something else," he whispered in his ear.

Jaskier blinked, laughing. "Right, yes. I mean, _yes_. I—I would love that. Oh my God."

"Wonderful," she replied brightly. "You can just get my number from Yennefer." Triss extended a hand, professional given the setting, but Jaskier accepted it. "I hope we get to work together soon."

Jaskier nodded dumbly. Geralt wrapped an arm around his shoulders and he leaned heavily against him.

They watched as Yennefer and Triss talked for a bit before parting ways.

"You seriously didn't know who she was?" he asked skeptically.

Yennefer flicked his ear. "We exchanged numbers before I even knew her name. I mean, _look_ at her." She grinned devilishly. "Her profession was an unexpected bonus, nothing more."

She paused for a moment.

"Though I _would've_ faked it if I had known, for you." She pointed a finger in his face. "So don't ever say I'm not a good friend again."

Jaskier laughed loudly. "You are the _best_ friend," he assured her, meaning it.

"Now," Yennefer accepted a drink from the bartender. "She had to go, which means I need a new victim for the night." She wiggled her fingers. "Have fun, boys." She took a step and paused, "But not _too_ much fun; you need to go easy on your voice, darling."

Without waiting for a reply, she walked away, hips swaying.

Jaskier laughed again. Geralt rubbed his arm. He felt proud, unexpectedly so.

"So," he said.

"So," he parroted, taking his hand and squeezing. "Wanna dance?"

Geralt smiled, just the barest hint of teeth. "Sure," he said. "Why not?"

Jaskier jumped up and pulled him toward the sea of dancing bodies. But somehow Geralt didn't notice any of them as they started to dance, pressed up against each other and swaying. Jaskier grinned, brighter than the sun. "It's my turn to be sappy," he said, barely audible over the music. "You are one of the _best_ things to ever happen to me, Geralt."

"Oh," he said, smirking. "Not _the_ best?"

Jaskier laughed, nosing at his cheek, "What do you think Yennefer would say if I didn't give her the top spot, especially after tonight?"

He grunted and pulled him closer, their bodies slotting together perfectly. "Fair enough." Jaskier smiled, soft and sweet, and leaned his head on his shoulder. They stayed like that, quiet and swaying, for what could've easily been hours. Finally, Geralt said, "If life could give me one blessing it would be to keep you in it, now and always."

Jaskier laughed against his neck, "Do _not_ make me cry in the middle of a club."

"Would never do that," he said, nosing at his hair. "I only like you crying in _bed_."

Jaskier laughed again, throwing his head back. He laughed like no one was watching, unabashed and bright-eyed. He was easily the most beautiful person Geralt had ever seen, and he never wanted him to stop laughing.


End file.
